


indifference

by expectopatronuts



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/F, It's left open tbh, Possible Character Death, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuts/pseuds/expectopatronuts
Summary: Mercy, they called her.Moira had noticed many things about her. How strands of blond hair fell over her face as she worked sometimes, how her knuckles went white when she held the Caduceus Staff before going into battle, how her cadence became a soft lilt when she was tired.All irrelevant facts that would be filed away until their time came to be forgotten.





	indifference

**Author's Note:**

> henlo friends, here's another short pointless thing instead of writing the things that need updating. as always, hover for translation if you're on desktop and if not check the end notes. hope you like it!

Of all the things Moira O’Deorain noticed (almost everything), the ones she let affect her were very few.

It was simply the most effective way to function. There was no point in focusing in her own discomfort when she pushed the needle into her own am, because she was in the brink of breakthrough. There was no point in listening to the complaints of those who could never understand her research, because she was helping humanity progress. There was no point in caring, because she could be doing.

Soon, she let the cool detachment take over other areas of her life, and she let it show. She let it show in the way she slicked back her hair, and the way the narrow knot of her tie rested on the hollow of her neck, and the way her voice became a drawl when she was annoyed.

By the time she joined the Overwatch team, she had perfected her technique, and her eyes were those of an impartial observer even in the matters that concerned her most personally. She watched, she noticed, she did not care.

Though their contact had been limited, Moira had noticed Ziegler. It was impossible not to, of course; Overwatch’s very own miracle worker was nothing short of adored by the rest of the members.

Mercy, they called her.

Yes, Moira had noticed many things about her. How strands of blond hair fell over her face as she worked sometimes, how her knuckles went white when she held the Caduceus Staff before going into battle, how her cadence became a soft lilt when she was tired.

All irrelevant facts that would be filed away until their time came to be forgotten.

Ziegler also watched, Moira knew. Her eyes were alert, quick, clear like the open sky and just as blue. The difference was, she watched always through the lens of emotion. She _cared_ , and it made her weak.

It made her shoulders shake with silent sobs after the McCree boy lost his arm and she wasn’t able to fix him, it made her smile become a joyful laugh when Shimada took the first steps on his own, and it made her ramble nervously before the beginning of a mission ( _Well, I suppose I’ll be patching you up, as usual_ ) until Moira barked at her to shut up without even looking at her.

It made her risk her life for others.

And all because she cared. She cared, and when Oxton fell, ahead of the whole team, Ziegler broke free of Moira’s hold with a shake of her arm.

“She needs me!”

“So does everyone else, Ziegler, don’t—”

But Ziegler wasn’t listening. She wasn’t even there anymore, gliding fast towards the fallen girl, into the fray of battle.

“Shite.” Moira spat the word out. “ _Go n-ithe an cat thú, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat_ , Ziegler.”

Even as she cursed her, Moira ran after her at top speed, casting a purple orb into the group of omnics that blocked her path, not even waiting for them to stop moving before leaping over their crumpled bodies.

Oxton was deathly pale but on her feet when Moira got there, standing back to back with Ziegler and emptying clip after clip into the group of men coming towards them from around the corner. The air crackled with the energy of her blasters, but when she reloaded her hands were so shaky that she almost dropped them.

“Go get backup!” Moira shouted over the gunfire.

An explosion further up the street made the ground rattle just as Oxton opened her mouth to protest, the noise drowning out her words. Moira grabbed her by the collar of her suit and pushed her back.

“Run, you idiot girl!” Moira snarled. “Isn’t that the one thing you can do?”

Even as Oxton blinked away, Moira took her place, her back pressed to Ziegler’s. She could feel the recoil of what McCree called the Caduceus Blaster (because _that thing’ll cure anything you’ve got_ , as he liked to say with a guffaw), Ziegler’s shoulder tensing with every precise, crisp shot.

“I will increase your damage.” Ziegler’s voice sounded raw as she shouted over the noise. Another explosion made her stagger. “Then you cover our escape. We have to—”

Her scream rang out almost at the same time as the shot. Moira turned her head in time to see the blaster clatter to the ground and Ziegler sink to one knee, clutching at her side. A dark stain bloomed beneath her fingers.

“I’ve got you, Ziegler, I’ve—”

But before Moira could cast forth a healing orb, or even engage her healing stream, another shot rang out.

There was the clang of metal against metal as the bullet snapped off the top part of the Caduceus, and then a gurgled noise from Ziegler as it lodged dangerously close to her neck.

Moira knelt, her lips pressed tightly together, and brought both hands up to her chest.

“ _Géill do mo thoil_!”

She didn’t watch to see how many omnics fell, she was too busy checking if the rate at which Ziegler lost blood slowed. Almost before the contents of her pack had emptied, she made a grab for the broken Caduceus, then hooked her hands under Ziegler’s arms and pulled. Her limp body left a red trail on the cobblestones as Moira dragged her with a strength she didn’t know she had, until Wilhelm’s thudding footsteps and the blue glow of his barrier announced a relative safety.

“Angela, no!”

It was McCree, who else, rushing forward, trying to fight off Morrison to get to Ziegler’s side. And then Amari rushed past, her rifle strapped across her back and her mouth set in a grim line.

“Work with me, Jack,” she said after taking a glance at the blood pooling on the ground. Moira noticed her voice wavered slightly.

Morrison let go of McCree and knelt next to Amari, slamming down one of his healing capsules. Moira could do nothing except push the broken Caduceus into McCree’s hands wordlessly, because her pack was empty after that last attack. She just walked past him and collapsed with her back to the stone wall, panting.

When she looked over to Amari, she caught a glimpse of Ziegler’s colourless face, her hair mated to her face with sweat, blood trickling down her chin as her chest heaved with painful shudders, and she had to swallow down the bile that rose to her throat.

“Are you alright there?”

It was Oxton’s voice.

Moira nodded without looking at her. She closed her eyes tightly for a second. When she opened them again, she caught sight of Ziegler’s hand, limp, open and empty. The Caduceus had been laid next to her, almost like an offering. “Fine.” Moira swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Of course she was, because she didn’t care. She didn’t care if Ziegler lived, she didn’t care if she bled out, she didn’t care at all.

She was fine. She would be.

As soon as she stopped shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Go n-ithe an cat thú, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat - May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat  
> let me know what you think! also you can find me on tumblr [@expectopatronuts](http://expectopatronuts.tumblr.com/)


End file.
